


Hideaway

by Katuary



Series: Cullen Rutherford & Evelyn Trevelyan [5]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Haven (Dragon Age), Hiding, Insecurity, Insomnia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:08:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,591
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katuary/pseuds/Katuary
Summary: Haven is an intimidating place for Evelyn, especially as more people expect her to guide the Inquisition's fate. The chantry is the last place anyone would look for her, at least intentionally.





	Hideaway

It became increasingly clear that the advisers expected Evelyn to be more than a simple figurehead for the Inquisition. It started small, a glance her way to confirm she understood a course of action. That morphed to asking for her thoughts, her approval, and finally her own decisions. She was reluctant to ask _why_ this had happened, but suspected it boiled down to her hand again.

She had the mark. She was the one they had to keep alive. They couldn't agree on their own. The first time they'd relied on that line of reasoning, she'd led them down a path to rescue a handful of scouts and lost a good deal of their soldiers. _That _was what happened when they let her lead. Stupid, naive decisions that came from a heartfelt place, but were driven by inexperience. 

She didn't want this, of course. A mage in power now would only worsen fears that _already_ existed of a mage as a religious symbol. A symbol of a religion she wasn't sure she believed in, to boot. She was well aware there had been attacks while she was still unconscious after the Conclave. She'd found one of Adan's notes on a visit to the healer: 

> _Two attempts so far by locals to break into the chantry to kill my patient._
> 
> _All this work to save her life, and will they just execute her?_

If they kept this up, it wouldn't just be Haven's nervous laypeople she had to fear, but formal assassination. In her more jaded moments, she wondered if that might be the intent. Perhaps she would make a better martyr than living symbol. 

Naively, she thought it better to stay in the chantry as much as possible. Perhaps fewer assassins would be willing to kill someone in a house of worship? At minimum, Cassandra would likely hear the struggle from the sleeping quarters she shared there with Josephine and Leliana. If she chose to interfere, perhaps Evelyn would survive.

It was peaceful there, once everyone had retreated to their own quarters for the night. Just Evelyn, a large plush chair Vivienne favored during daylight, a handful of books, and the occasional roaming cat for company. The cats were the best part of the chantry after hours; there was something about her lap or stomach being elected their preferred perch that melted away the trembling in her mind. She'd been chosen by a small black cat tonight, curled up and purring quietly in her lap as Evelyn rubbed her ears. She'd meant to reread her reports, but she had all night, right? 

"You're here late."

Needle-sharp claws dug into her thighs, biting through her breeches. Evelyn jumped and hissed as the cat scrambled out of her lap. Her fault. She'd startled her. 

Commander Cullen was still in his armor, despite the late hour. She was tempted to ask whether he _ever_ removed it, but she'd already harried him enough with ridiculous questions that day. Asking about his _vows_. Maker's breath, what _had_ she been thinking? Ways certainly existed to ask if she was making him uncomfortable without making him _more_ uncomfortable.

"Commander!" she sputtered, halfway rising from the chair, "I'm sorry, I didn't know anyone else was here..."

"You're not a prisoner, Herald." 

_Not since a few weeks ago, at any rate. _ She knew better than to remind him of that.

"You aren't required to stay in your quarters." He frowned, which did nothing to calm her nerves. She stood fully, arms crossed over her chest. 

"I know. But I can still leave," she offered, barely hiding her reluctance. If being alone in her quarters at night felt dangerous, walking back through Haven in the dark to reach them was a dozen times worse. 

His mouth quirked, tugging the long scar on his upper lip. "I think we can stay out of each other's way."

He strode toward the back of the chantry, leaving her alone again. Mostly. She could still hear the metallic shift of his armor even minutes later. Had he just come there to pace? Frowning, she settled back into the chair, picked up a report, and tried to concentrate. Right. That conceited, overblown _arse_, Lord Kildarn. Did he truly believe boot licking would get them to do his dirty work and dispel refugees for him? 

> _They claim to be refugees, but I have seen elves and apostates among them!_

Oh no. Not an apostate. Her worst fear. Truly. 

Helping the refugees had been the right thing to do, no question. At least the letter they'd received _after_ their intervention was entertaining...no matter how pointedly Leliana and Josephine reminded her the Inquisition could not _always_ afford to be so blunt in its actions. The influx of new recruits from Ferelden mollified them somewhat, at any rate.

Of course, that wasn't the end of it. Josephine had appended a detailed list of lords connected to the slighted lord, friendly or no, and how this might affect the Inquisition's standing with each of them. How such a minor lord had a network of names so blasted _long_...Evelyn hid a yawn behind her hand out of habit. The letters on the page were blurring together.

"Oh, wake up..." she muttered to herself, pinching her eyelids. There was more work to be done. Always more work. Perhaps she should have brought herself some tea. She threw her head against the backrest with an annoyed sigh. Maybe a few minutes wouldn't hurt. Just to rest her eyes...

She startled herself awake and immediately checked the windows above the entry doors. Still dark. Not time to return yet. 

"Oh. I apologize. I thought you would have already returned to your quarters."

The Commander's armor must have woken her. Evelyn's ears were attuned to the sound of shifting plate from her time in the Circle, no matter how well-oiled it was. She _was_ years out of practice though. Perhaps that was why he'd been able to sneak up on her.

"Not...ah, not yet," she answered, waving a hand and suppressing a yawn, "Sleeping here is better."

"Without a bed." She couldn't get a read on him. Was he irritated? Suspicious? Just exhausted, as she was? 

"Near people I...know." She tried for a casual shrug, already realizing her mistake.

"You don't feel safe here." Not a question. 

"I..." There was little point denying it. She'd already said too much. "N-no. Not really. I'm sure you're all trying, but..." She lifted her shoulders again and avoided his eyes. "A lot of people want me dead now. Me specifically, I mean. Not just..." What was the delicate way of phrasing it? "...because of the rebellion."

"Not just because you're a mage." No hiding anything that obvious from _him_, of all people. She gave him a weak smile.

"Exactly. It would be so much easier to just go back to being no one, but...I couldn't run away from everything now." She dragged one hand through her hair and gestured to the pile of parchment she'd gathered with the other. "I just wish I knew what I was _doing_."

A short silence followed, long enough that Evelyn suspected the Commander would leave without saying anything further. When he finally did speak, it was with a conviction she hadn't expected.

"No one expects you to do everything alone. Least of all the pieces you're unfamiliar with." His hands rested on the hilt of his sword again. He did that more often when he was nervous. What had she done to cause that? She frowned, flicking her eyes away from the weapon to meet his eyes again. 

"I doubt any of you have time for tutoring." They all had their own duties to attend, Evelyn included. She couldn't count on time to study while repairing damage from the war in the Hinterlands, defending the Inquisition's existence in Val Royeaux, reclaiming lands on the Storm Coast, or just trying to puzzle out what her mark _was_ with Solas. She would be naive to think the advisers' infrequent travel made their duties any less strenuous. 

"Perhaps not every day," he acknowledged, inclining his head, "but whenever there _is_ time. We can hardly ask for your raw input when so much of this is new to you." Evelyn huffed a short laugh.

"I might just take you up on that. Thank you." She expected he'd leave then, but he just cleared his throat.

"We could...I'm sure we could station guards outside your quarters if that would--"

"No!" Her cheeks flamed with embarrassment at her outburst. "I mean...thank you, but...I'm fine here. Truly. And...we're spread thin enough as it is." A weak excuse, given her adamant refusal. Better the chantry than feeling like she was under lock and key again. Thankfully, he didn't press matters. 

"If you change your mind, you know where to find me."

* * *

She wasn't startled when he entered the chantry the following night. She looked up from the tea she'd remembered to bring, exchanged a small smile with the Commander, and left him to his...pacing? They'd never discussed the reason he was there so late. Not her business. Besides, she had work to do. _An Enchanter's Observations_, by some anonymous author. She missed the texts from the Circle. So many beautifully illuminated manuscripts, even if she could only look at the best ones through the panes of a glass case. These books? The cramped writing and archaic jargon made her head spin. 

"What are you reading?" He had a habit of jumping straight into a conversation, no preliminaries. Evelyn kept her finger at the line she'd been reading and glanced up.

"Something Solas gave me. Said it might help me understand what he was trying to figure out about..." She swiveled her wrist. "...this. The mark."

"I'm afraid I wouldn't be much help with that." 

"Maybe not. You're not missing much though." She squinted at the small text and rolled her eyes. "Takes a special breed of author to make the _Fade_ boring." He chuckled.

"I suppose I'll leave you to it, then."

"Goodnight, Commander."

"Goodnight, Herald."

* * *

Evelyn had a full schematic of Haven pinned to the desk the next night. She didn't want to mark it up too badly, so she had bits of scribbled parchment littered across the sketched buildings, pinned down with loose metal buttons. The edges kept rolling back into the center of the diagram, and she had to pinch her tongue between her teeth to suppress curses to the Maker. His house, His rules, after all.

A glare of light caught the corner of her eye, and she realized the sun was rising through the high windows. She had some briefing or other with Josephine scheduled this morning too, bright and early. Fantastic. She took a long, bracing drink from her mug, nearly draining it. She would need to stop going through so much tea if she ever wanted to sleep through the night, but there was always something more to learn, to refine, to perfect. 

"Isn't that cold by now?"

She didn't jump, just turned to face him. He'd stayed all night? That was a first.

"This? Oh...no." She chuckled and wiggled her fingers around the clay mug, palm emitting a brief warm glow, "I'm my own mug warmer. Comes in handy." She resisted the urge to quip something about magic serving man. He frowned.

"If you can do that, why bother with coats?" Was he teasing? He always sounded so serious, she could never tell.

"Takes too much concentration. Plus I can't do it in my sleep. And it makes people uncomfortable if you're out in your sleeves in a blizzard."

A sheepish half smile. "Point taken."

* * *

For someone so forthright about the limitations of her warming spells, Evelyn never remembered a blanket for her nights in the chantry corner. She was so exhausted, she usually fell asleep anyway.

* * *

It was the second night in a row Cullen hadn't left before sunrise. Evelyn frowned as she gathered her things for the walk back to her quarters. Against her better judgment, she jogged to catch him before he reached the double doors.

"Don't you ever sleep?"

He always had dark circles under his eyes, but they were especially noticeable after two full days without rest. 

"Not well, no." His answer was terse, but that didn't faze her as much as usual. She tried an encouraging smile, though it felt like a wince.

"I bet Adan has something for that," she said, shifting the bundle of books and parchment in her arms, "He doesn't give himself enough credit for his potion work."

"I..." Cullen's eyes pressed shut as he sighed, visibly trying to relax, "...no. It's alright. There's always work to be done." 

"You're not wrong," she answered dryly. 

* * *

She eventually found that he paced the war room at night. _That_ was how he kept himself occupied. Evelyn wouldn't be surprised if Cullen could draw the entire map, plus the shifting mission markers, in his sleep. When he _did_ sleep. She had dropped that subject entirely after her first attempt, not wanting to prod what was obviously a sore spot. 

Evelyn wasn't having any luck with her ongoing project: reviewing maps of Haven and the surrounding areas to better understand how their base operated. 

"I can't help noticing you've had the same map out for days now." He stood at her shoulder, surveying her notes. She called a hint of frost to her cheeks to calm a sudden blush.

"More than one," she admitted. She frowned and glanced over her shoulder, tucking a stubborn lock of hair behind her ear. "Do you need them back? I can work on something else if there aren't enough copies to go around..." 

"No," he answered with a surprisingly warm chuckle, "You just seem...stuck." 

"I am." She relaxed, swiveling in the chair so she could face him fully. "I'm trying to keep track of the Inquisition's trade routes, review defenses...but I suppose I've never had to do any of that before. It wasn't necessary in the Circle, and I didn't exactly have access to maps or charts...after that." It would help no one to fixate on Ostwick. She shrugged lamely. "But I suppose this might be you offering your services? And I should stop talking?"

"I believe it ruins the point of teaching if you're not allowed to ask questions, you know."

"You have a point...oh!" She scrambled to stand up. "Here, take the chair. Some of us don't have a thousand pounds of armor on." Evelyn wasn't perfect at reading his face, but she was _sure_ he was trying not to laugh at her.

"I'm alright." He wasn't moving. "Besides, where would you sit?"

She glanced about briefly for an answer and brightened when she found it. She hopped up on the barrel next to the desk, crossing her legs primly and setting her palms on her knee.

"See? Perfectly fine. I'll steal it back when you go to bed, I promise." She did her best not to put pointed emphasis on _when_. 

There was something unreadable in the smile he gave her in return, just before he relented and took the offered place at the desk, but she didn't dwell on it. 

* * *

She didn't remember Cullen coming to the chantry, but she woke with a thick woolen blanket draped over her shoulders. Definitely one of his by the smell. Elderflower and oakmoss. Like a healer.

Not that she noticed how he _smelled_. 

Maker's breath.

**Author's Note:**

> God, I love these two dorks. Nothing says "budding romance" like winding up in the same building because one of you thinks they're going to be assassinated and the other is suffering from withdrawal-induced insomnia. Ah, love.
> 
> Quoted note is from the "Patient Observations" note on the desk in the healer's building, and some of the mission text from "Address a Nobleman's Concerns". Seriously, dude. You know the Herald is a mage at this point, and you start badmouthing apostates? Smooth move, buddy.


End file.
